


Only You Make Me See (Feeling Real Remix)

by navaan



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Temporary Character Death, Civil War, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcoholic Tony Stark, Kissing, M/M, Remix, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29605413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: Tony has never seen color until he sees Captain America.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48
Collections: 2021 Captain America/Iron Man Remix Madness





	Only You Make Me See (Feeling Real Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cathalinaheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cathalinaheart/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Seeing in Color](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22085671) by [Cathalinaheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cathalinaheart/pseuds/Cathalinaheart). 
  * In response to a prompt by [Cathalinaheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cathalinaheart/pseuds/Cathalinaheart) in the [2021_Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2021_Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness) collection. 



> Inspired by [**Seeing in Color**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22085671) (300 words) by [**Cathalinaheart**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cathalinaheart)

Iron Man leans over Captain America, holding out an arm to help him back to his feet. 

“Must be disorientating. Waking up in the future in the middle of a bunch of costumed crusaders,” Tony tells him. Captain America is staring at his hand — clad in flaming-red armor, takes it, and lets Iron Man pull him up. His eyes follow the lines of the armor to the light that shines in the middle of the chest plate that’s a lot more than just a power source for the armor. Then he looks up.

Tony’s breath catches in his throat and he’s caught in a steady blue gaze of a man he’s admired since childhood.

Wait… Blue gaze?

Blue uniform.

Color bursts around him pushing away the grey; suddenly color is more than a concept he has read about all his life but it's real and perceivable and brilliant. Cap’s wearing red, white, and blue, his own armored hand is glittering red and Janet and Hank are wearing red and _actual_ black. But that doesn’t matter in the light of these blue eyes staring at him in echoed astonishment.

It’s the first time they’re looking at each other after Cap nearly toppled him over after waking up from what amounts to a seven-decade-long beauty sleep. 

They’re looking at each other and for the first time in his life, there’s color. He’d given up hope that there would ever be the color for him — and the soulmate to spend the multicolored life with...

“Hello, Captain America. I’m Iron Man,” Tony speaks past the knot in his throat and it sounds trite and insufficient in light of how much more vibrant his world has just become.

“Please call me Steve,” Captain America says with equal calm. He must still be reeling from waking to a confusing moment among strangers, learning he woke in what to him is the future. Then Steve smiles so brightly that it lights the inside of Quinjet just with the multicolored glow of his joy. “I’m so glad to finally meet you, soulmate.” The last word’s breathed out carefully like it’s something to be cherished, something to look forward to.

Tony swallows. "Are you… do you really…?" His voice is carefully devoid of any emotions.

"Your soulmate? See in color?" Steve finishes his questions before Tony can get the words out.

He nods.

“Finally, yes,” Steve says and beams. “Feels real to me. Nothing ever felt more real.”

* * *

Tony understands that being soulmates is no guarantee for things to work out — and things are sometimes tranquil and perfect, and sometimes rough and fraught with tension. They both have their close calls, they both have their faults and at times they both strain that precious bond between them.

But they always find their way back to each other.

Nothing can change the simple fact that the world’s better when they’re together — not Tony’s self-hatred, not his health, not his drinking problems, not Extremis.

That’s why Tony trusts Steve will understand in the end that Tony was doing what he had to do. That’s why Tony thinks years from now they will talk about registration and be glad that Tony found a way for Steve to get through that mess without giving up his values — even though Steve might never agree with the trade-offs Tony’s accepting to keep Steve and all the other heroes safe.

That’s also why when things go wronger than wrong, Tony feels his world is falling apart when things get out of hand, why he craves the taste of smooth old Bourbon and can’t allow himself to have it, why he feels his chest constricting as if his heart’s still failing him, why he wakes up in cold sweat sometimes reaching for Steve who isn’t there because he’s out on the run, hating Tony’s guts…

That’s why he thinks he may have destroyed the most important thing in existence when Steve brings him down with an EMP in his own show of tactical betrayal, why it shakes Tony to the core when the shield crashes down on the armor with the intent to hurt, to take him down for good.

He thinks it might be better to give up then — _give up on them_.

What’s color when your soulmate resents you enough to tinge all your life with the crimson and black hues of hatred?

He thinks about it while Steve’s waiting for his trial. Would Steve mind if Tony died? Had he stopped and given himself up because this bond between them was still precious to him?

And then the unthinkable happens.

Extremis shrieks at him when the news hits across all networks at the same time.

But Tony already knows.

Because the world has lost all color.

Steve’s dead.

He breaks down, falls to his knees, and sobs.

* * *

“You need to get up, Tony,” Carol says and waits patiently for him to nod and turn to his side. “We need you to, please.”

He gets out of bed, cleans himself up, looks at her — symbol on her costume that used to be bright yellow now grey, the sash around her hips that used to be red now a shaded grey, her beautiful blonde hair that used to catch the sunlight in different shades of yellow and gold now a lighter variation of white-grey.

“You have to go to the wake,” she tells him warily. She’s one of the few people who know how much this fight cost him, how close he’s to the brink — and how precariously close he is to falling down the wagon if he can’t find the will to stay on track, go on, control himself.

“The worst thing is,” he whispers at his grey face in the mirror, “that now he’s dead we can do nothing but go on. No out for us. No drowning our sorrows. We have to face this because we owe him that much.”

He's carrying the burden along with the guilt. Steve's dead and he might as well have pulled the trigger. Getting up is the least he can do. He owes it to the man he loved more than life itself, more than color and brightness, to keep this world safe now more than ever.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispers in the inside of the armor, tears streaming down his face. He has failed. He has failed to do his job, he has failed Steve's memory. Despite everything, the Skrulls have gotten the better of him. Extremis is down and he can’t even move…

“Tony get up!”

He can’t see. The HUD’s dead.

And the voice must be in his head.

Can’t be Steve.

“TONY! GET UP NOW!”

The HUD flashes. His eyes meet the specter’s — he’s seen Steve’s ghost all over the place for months, in his dreams, at the edge of his vision. His guilty conscience always takes the form of Steve…

Then the numbers in front of his eyes appear yellow, the shirt Steve’s wearing’s a light blue, the shield silver and red.

“With me?” the ghost asks.

“Always,” he answers too quickly, ready to die in technicolored glory if it means Steve’s waiting on the other side but the mask of the armor snaps up and Tony realizes Steve has used the emergency code to get him out of his protective shell turned prison. 

“Are you here?” Tony asks. “How… is this possible?”

“Hi there, soulmate” Steve says. “I am here. Long story. I need you with me now, Tony. I can’t do this alone.”

“I… What? I…” Color swims in front of his eyes. “You’re alive. Oh. Wow. I'm sorry… just. I’m having a hard time believing this is real.”

Steve leans down to kiss him. 

It shocks Tony right out of his stasis.

“Wow,” he says, reeling. “This — You feel real to me.”

“I’m still angry,” Steve says.

“You were dead,” Tony points out as a way of agreement. Steve has every right to hate him.

“I’m alive now, and we have work to do.”

Tony drags himself up. “On it, Cap.”

“Good,” Steve says, and he sounds deceptively calm and only Tony can tell there’s a hint of relief. He takes Tony by the arm and helps him stand. 

In the end, they’re only at their best when they’re together. They can work through the violent red-black hues to come back to the reds and blues of their bond. 

Because Steve’s alive.

“Keep it together,” Steve orders. “I need you, shellhead.”

A tear rolls down Tony’s cheek and he ducks his face so Steve can’t see it.

 _If this isn’t real_ , Tony thinks, _I don’t care._

Nothing ever felt real without Steve anyway.


End file.
